Exile No More
by TreeofStars
Summary: Season 4. Daryl finds Carol living in a small shack.


She hears him before she sees him – the roar and rumble of his bike pounding in her ears.

She takes a deep breath and looks around the tiny shack that has served as her shelter for the past few months. Her coat is strewn on the dirty, stained cot. Her backpack sits by the door at the ready. Her lone pot sits crusted and dirty on top of her wood burning stove. This is her world now, and he is about to invade it.

It never crosses her mind that he will pass by the shack. He's too good of a hunter for that.

She watches him get off the bike, his crossbow in hand. She curses her heart for skipping a beat as he takes in his surroundings, looking for threats. She thinks that maybe she should open the door for him. Or perhaps she should have dug a hole in the dirt floor and escaped under the thin wood wall. But she does not move. She feels like a deer caught in his gaze, paralyzed and waiting for the fatal arrow.

He approaches the door, opening it slowly, his crossbow aimed and ready. He eyes sweep from right to left, and she hears his gasp when he sees her standing in the corner.

For the briefest of moments, he keeps his weapon trained on her.

"I knew you'd find me."

He gives a half hearted snort and lowers his crossbow. "Who said I was looking for you?"

She shakes her head. "What are you doing here, Daryl?"

"Lookin. Seein what I might find."

"We're over two hundred miles from the prison," she points out.

He frowns, looking around her meager shelter. "This where you're sleepin?"

"I don't know about sleep, but I rest and eat here, yes."

He steps closer to her, taking in her sunken cheeks and sallow complexion. "I don't know about eatin, neither. When was the last time you had a meal?"

She sighs. "I'm fine, Daryl."

But it's as if her body takes a suggestion from his observation. She turns to sit, and the room begins to spin. She feels her knees buckle as her hands reach for the cot to break her fall.

But she does not fall. Strong arms come around her, steadying her. Her hands instinctively grab his at her waist, holding him there. She closes her eyes and wills her lightheadedness to subside. His body curls around her, his breath hot at her ear as he waits her out.

"You should sit down."

She nods, her hair brushing against his neck. But his hold on her does not lessen.

She gives his hands a reassuring squeeze and turns to lower herself onto the cot. He hovers over her, watching.

"I'm okay, Daryl."

He snorts. "Yeah. What do you have to eat around here?"

He begins to forage in the tiny cabinet above the stove, but she stops him.

"No food in there."

He reaches for her pack and she shakes her head slowly. "Not there, either."

"You have no food." It isn't a question, and she does not reply, just watches as he walks out to his bike and grabs his bag. Back inside, he offers her a pack of stale crackers and a half empty bottle of water.

She eats slowly, watching as he looks in her cupboard again. "Got anything of use in here we can take?"

"Not really. Maybe a bandage or two. You can take those."

It takes her a moment to work up to her next question, and she waits until his attention is on the contents of her pack. "How is everyone? You got the medicine?"

He nods as he inspects a rusty knife she found in the glove compartment of her car. "Mm hmmm. Few more lost to it, but most are better now. Glenn and Lizzie are okay."

She swallows heavily, a stubborn cracker lodged in her throat. "Mika?"

"She's okay."

Part of her is screaming to know if the girls ask about her, or if they miss her, but those are a mother's questions, and she is not their mother.

"They'll be glad to see you."

She blinks slowly, understanding coming over her in a wave. "I'm...I'm not going back, Daryl."

He shakes his head and walks over to the cot, bunching her blanket in his fist. "This might fit in your bag if you want it." He wads it into a manageable ball, but she grabs his arm before he can turn away.

"Daryl, stop."

He takes a deep breath, knuckles turning white as he clenches the worn fabric in his fists. "You gonna give up now? Die alone in this shack as some kind of penance for what you did?"

"I'm not sorry for what I did, and I'm not punishing myself for it. I'm not going back."

"Fine." He releases the blanket and turns to his pack, dumping its contents onto the dirt floor.

"What are you doing?"

"This is where we're staying, right?"

"Don't Daryl. It won't work. You and I both know those people need you."

"They need you, too."

"No, they don't. Anyone can cook, do a little teaching..."

"That's all you think you did? What about all that training Hershel gave you? We need that."

"You have Hershel. And he can train others."

He stands, his shoulders slumped. "No, he can't."

Her heart beats double time. "why not?"

He returns to the cot, sitting down next to her. "He got bit. Again. On the other leg. You believe that? Even in this world, that's some odds. And he knew. He knew it was all over. You shoulda seen him. Tough bastard kept everyone calm. Even tried to make some sick joke about it. Rick wanted to amputate, but Hershel knew it wouldn't be of any use. We didn't have you to put him back together again."

Tears fall freely down her face as she listens to him. There is nothing she can say, so they sit in silence until a thought occurs to her. "What happened to Bob? Did he not make it back with you?"

Daryl's face hardens. "No, he did. Sonofabitch was drunk when it happened. Useless. Drank so much he was passed out. Surprised he was able to save himself that much whiskey."

"Where did he find whiskey?"

"When we went for meds. Guess he figured it was finally time to enjoy it."

"And what does Rick think of all this?"

Daryl shrugs. "I didn't ask him."

She nods. "You need a medic, so you came looking for the only one you knew."

"That's not why I came for you."

"Then why did you come?" She can feel exhaustion coming over her, but she still wants to challenge him.

"Cause you belong with us."

"Rick doesn't think so."

"Screw Rick. He doesn't own the prison."

"Neither do you."

He turns to her, eyes flashing with anger. "You have two options. We stay here, or we go home. Up to you."

"That's blackmail."

"How so?"

"That prison needs you Daryl. I can't choose to keep you from it."

"You ain't. I'm choosing to stay with you, whatever you decide."

"Why?" Her voice is a whisper.

He picks at his thumb until a bright red bead surfaces at the tip. He wipes it on his worn pants. "Whaddaya want me to say?"

"The truth, Daryl."

"No one should be out here alone."

"Yeah, but I'm not your problem, remember?"

She can tell he does remember, his eyes closing at the memory of that long ago night on the farm.

"That was a long time ago."

"I'm your problem now then?" She doesn't know why she's pushing him. Perhaps she knows she has nothing left to lose.

He nods once in reply. Had she blinked, she would have missed it.

She bites her lip to keep herself from asking why. Why now? Why her?

The silence is deafening. She closes her eyes and takes him in, his presence calming and steady beside her. "I'm tired, Daryl."

He reaches for the blanket and turns to her. "You should sleep some. Even if we leave, we'll have to wait til tomorrow."

Her eyes shift to the tiny window and the dark sky outside. "Storm coming."

He nods, reaching over and tucking the blanket around her legs.

She finds herself sliding down to rest her head on the cot, exhaustion coming over her in waves. She wants to tell him that this isn't what she meant, that she is another sort of tired, but her eyes close and she drifts off before she can speak.

* * *

She wakes with a start, cursing herself for falling into such a deep sleep with no one to watch her back, and then she feels his leg beside her head. She allows herself a moment to catch her breath before sitting up.

"Go back to sleep. Not even morning yet."

She looks at him, his eyes on the window, always on watch. His face is drawn, his eyes look heavy.

"And when was the last time _you_ slept?"

He shrugs. "I'm alright."

She sits up, pulling the blanket off her legs and dumping it onto his lap. "Get some sleep, Daryl."

He doesn't look at her, just nods before pulling his legs up and curling his body up on the cot beside her.

She can't see his face, but she can tell from his breathing that he fights sleep for some time before he loses the battle. Her hand rests beside his head, and it is all she can do to stop herself from reaching out to touch him.

* * *

Her leg starts to cramp just as the sun comes up. She hasn't moved, for fear of waking him, the lightest of sleepers. Slowly, she shifts her weight with a wince. He doesn't stir. She finds it impossible now to resist touching him, and her hand finds its way to his head. Her caress is gentle, a whisper, but she can hear his breathing change almost instantly.

"It's morning," she whispers.

He nods, his head moving just under her hand. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and takes a deep breath before sitting up.

"Reason you're waking my ass up this early?"

She smiles. "We're gonna go home."

He turns to her, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Well alright then."

He is up and moving in an instant, gathering their things. "How much gas you got in that car?"

"Maybe quarter of a tank. Not sure."

He takes her gas can and hose from under the cabinet and heads outside to check.

She waits until she hears him slamming the car door outside before she attempts getting up. She knows it's going to hurt, and she doesn't want him to see it. Using the cabinet for leverage, she pulls herself onto her feet. She can't help the curse that escapes when she puts weight on her right leg. She looks down, knowing it's gotten worse overnight.

She's limping to the front door, wondering how she'll be able to hide her wound when he bounds through the door. She can see him take her in, from her hand holding on to the stove, to the stiff manner in which she holds her leg. His eyes narrow, and he bends down before her, his hands ghosting over her legs.

"What happened?"

"It's nothing. Really."

His nose wrinkles as he gets closer to her. He can smell it on her. His hand comes to rest just above her boot, fingers on the zipper.

"Don't, Daryl," she warns.

He ignores her, and she bites back a yelp as he pulls the zipper down to reveal the infected wound on her calf.

"Fuck..." he whispers. "You been bit."

Chapter 2 coming soon!


End file.
